Nakhom Phanom is a lovely little town pushed up against the Mekong in Thailand’s upper northeast and opposite the equally characterful Tha Kaek on the Lao side of the river.

Although I have been to Tha Kaek many times in the last few years, it is almost two decades since I visited Nakhon Phanom.  When I returned last week I immediately questioned why I had left it so long. It’s a charming town, and along with nearby Sakhon Nakhon, makes for a great destination for those interested in heritage, regional culture, and local cuisine (more on that in a future post).

In the 1920s many Vietnamese settled in the area and built French-Vietnamese style shophouses along the riverfront. Coming across such gems in Issan is a wonderful surprise and although some have sadly fallen into disrepair many are in remarkably good condition.

There’s also a strong Chinese-Thai community in Nakhon Phanom and some fascinating old shops to explore that have remained unchanged for decades.

You can get direct flights from Bangkok to Nakhom Phanom now with Nok Air making it a great destination for a distinctly different weekend break.

I’ll be heading back in the cool season for a few lazy evenings beside the Mekong eating good Issan food.

Thailand has a sizable population of Tai Dam or Black Tai, of which there are several tight-knit communities in the upper northeast around Loei and Nong Khai.

They originate from the Dien Bien Phu region of Vietnam but are spread through Laos and Thailand more than a century ago. The women are skilled weavers and still make and wear their own traditional clothing. Like all ethnic groups, their culture is threatened by our rapidly changing world.  However, in the village of Baan Na Pa Nat in Loei province, efforts are being made to ensure that their rich traditions are kept alive.

Baan Na Pa Nat has been designated a Tai Dam Cultural Village and is an interesting place to visit, particularly for those with a love of the textile arts as there is a weaving co-operative where you can witness the process and also buy products. The village also offers several homestays which are worth it just to experience the distinctive Tai Dam cuisine.

In April, there is a large gathering of Tai Dam in the village with groups coming from all over the region.

In my humble opinion, the northeast of Thailand, or Issan as it is more commonly referred to, is overlooked by far too many travelers. It’s a fascinating region of cultural and culinary diversity and never fails to delight me.

Located in the upper northeast, 615 kilometres from Bangkok, the province of Udon Thani is perhaps the last place you would expect to find salt farms.

But in the district of Ban Dung checkerboard rice fields have been given over to the production of high quality rock salt.

The salt-rich groundwater is pumped up from 80-metres below at a number of licensed farms in the area. It’s an activity carried out in the cool and hot seasons, and one which produces high quality salt.

As well as producing salt, the farm I visited also makes Chinese-style salted eggs and has a spa with a selection of natural and salt based products.

I’ll post a few more images of my travels in Issan over the next few days.

In the afternoon of the second day, Jao Paw Guan is carried on a bamboo rocket in a procession that heads to Wat Phon Chai temple.

The procession almost includes monks lifted head high on wooden platforms and revered images of Buddha.

There’s an air of celebration to the whole affair and it gets particularly raucous as it enters the temple grounds.

After the Buddha images are returned to the temple, bamboo rockets are launched into the sky in the belief that they will bring on annual rains and a plentiful rice harvest.

Most of the powerful homemade fireworks are launched by locals who are well oiled by rice whisky and keeping your distance is advised. A few monks also get involved in the pyrotechnics.

On the third and final day of the festival, the mood is more reflective with many of the faithful attending sermons in the temple.

I’ve recently returned from one of Issan’s most colourful annual events, the Phi Ta Kon ghost festival. It was my first visit for more than a decade so I was interested to see how it had changed. I was joined by Richard Barrow and we had a great snapping the event and eating good Thai food.

The festival is a celebration of the return of Prince Vessandorn, the penultimate incarnation of the Lord Buddha. The story goes that his prolonged absence had been taken as a sign that he had forsaken the people. When he eventually reappeared, they were overcome with emotion, and rushed into the streets to celebrate. Unable to contain their excitement, the noise from the cheering and laughter proved loud enough to rend the skies and waken the dead. Out of the forest came pi tam khon – the ‘ghosts that follow people’ – eager to join the festivities and show their respect to Prince Vessandorn.

Over the years, a little semantic shift has taken place and the phi tam khon have become phi ta kon or the ‘ghosts wearing masks’. Under the guidance of headman and shaman, Jao Paw Guan, the people don masks to conceal their identity and welcome the annual return of the spirits by joining them in a boisterous parade through the town. I recall interviewing Jao Paw Kuan years ago for an article I wrote on the festival and it was great to see him in good health and still leading the event.

Originally the masks were made from sticky rice baskets decorated with simple faces. Today, cheap throwaway masks are no longer in vogue. Members of the present-day ghostly cortege take their craft very seriously.

What were once almost childlike creations have evolved into an elaborate form of artistic expression. The sticky rice basket is still used but for the main elongated face a dried frond from a coconut palm is used and the features, particularly the nose, have become extremely exaggerated.

To even the most casual observer or armchair anthropologist the festival’s connection to fertility – of the land and no doubt the townsfolk – through attempts to provoke the clouds into unleashing the season’s rain, is obvious. The procession is led by the phi ta kon yai, a pair of enormous ghost effigies both of which stand, undeniably and shamelessly, stark naked.

In addition, many of the villagers carry with them wooden phallic symbols; the belief being that if a touch of good humoured vulgarity is brought to bear on the proceedings it will encourage fon tok fa pa – rain and thunder. To this end, irascible homemade rockets are also fired into the sky.

When the event is over, it is considered bad luck to keep the masks so they are discarded by throwing them into the river as part of a religious ceremony. However, some of Dan Sai’s renowned artists also sell the best ones for thousands of baht at the end of the festival.

As with most Thai festivals, there’s also plenty of beautiful young girls turning heads in the parade.

I was happy to discover that although the Phi Ta Kon festival had become a little more commercial, and less high spirited, that is, less fuelled by rice whisky and phallus waving than in the past, it’s still one of Issan’s most interesting events and highly recommended.

There’ll be more images over the next day or day about the religious parade led by Jao Paw Guan that also takes place at the Phi Ta Kon festival.

I was in Nong Khai last week. Luckily I returned just before it was hit by heavy flooding. It’s a pleasant little town, particularly at this time of year when it has a sleepy low season feel about it.  The town sits in the northern reaches of Issan and you can enjoy lazy evenings dining beside the Mekong River on floating restaurants and, if you wish, cross into neighbouring Laos via the Friendship Bridge. The area is known for great sunsets and the bridge is a good spot to capture them.